


Brothers' Keeper

by OKami_hu, oksammich



Series: Tarnished Silver [4]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hunting, Magic, Monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-23 12:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OKami_hu/pseuds/OKami_hu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/oksammich/pseuds/oksammich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The chronicles of Loki's exile to Midgard and some stories about his time before. Just arriving to trial, Loki spots a familiar face which brings back memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Still going strong. And I'm fixin' to keep it that way.

Asgard have never been so radiant before than on that day. The sunlight was streaming through the tall windows, painting every surface in Odin Allfather’s hallowed halls with golden hues. The airy thronechamber was oddly empty though; obviously, the royal family didn’t want the people to witness their shame.

The loyal Einherjar and the proud Valkyries stood guard in solemn, unmoving walls and as armored statues next to Allfather and Allmother. Odin had his companions with: the wolves Geri and Freki and the ravens Hugin and Munin; their eyes followed the captive’s trek watchfully. Gone were the strict orders, the heartfelt pleas that kept them back for so many years; now they regarded the prisoner as a threat.

Allfather was the perfect example of a king, his face set in stone, his back straight; Gungnir stood perfectly still in his hand. Frigga didn’t move, either, but her beautiful face was white, her sparkling eyes dull with the lack of sleep and her lips drawn tight by bitter sadness.

Thor walked with even steps. His inner turmoil has long reached its boiling point and it collapsed on itself, leaving him resigned and aching instead of agony and raging. He glanced up and noticed the Warriors Three and Sif in the back; none of them smiled, there was no contentedness, no anger, merely compassion. If not for Loki, then for him.

There was also a familiar face at the line of the Einherjar. A tall, broad-shouldered warrior stood watch with dark red hair and eyes of turquoises.

His brother was ever the proud prince. Adorned in chains and the plain clothes of a prisoner, he still held his shoulders high and his chin up, eyes as lovely as gems in his pale, snow-white skin. There was no hesitation as they approached, even when the brothers kneeled according to court etiquette. It was all so surreal, the two of them surrounded by proud, brave warriors that rarely ever convened if not for a birth, coronation, or death.

His throat tightened. A death was imminent, indeed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Loki's head tilt ever so slightly. Then his gaze followed, and he found himself a young lad once again, looking up in awe at their tutor, Brynjarr the Red, with his brother small and frail at his side. He met the turquoise gaze and hoped he didn't look as tormented as he felt.

 _‘Be brave, lad’,_ that strong voice had once rumbled like thunder, _even when all is lost and there is but a thread between you and oblivion, look Hel in the face and sneer._

Loki felt little. Then those eyes slid to meet his, and for a brief moment, he was swallowed by the tempest of green and blue, mottled into a storm of color that tore into his throat with hot teeth.

He wished to lose himself there. Safe in the storm, he'd always been protected by--

The storm subsided. Brynjarr the Red looked away as though he'd looked at a mutilated corpse, eaten by maggots and covered in filth. Loki's throat tightened, his calm speared by shame, and he could look no more.

\--------

When he woke before dawn, two days after his eighth birthday, he found that Thor had crept underneath his blanket again and was sleeping soundly with his face pressed to Loki's chest. His blonde hair was wild, decorated haphazardly with twigs, damp leaves, and dried grass--trophies of the fearsome battles he fought so often in his dreams. During the daylight hours, Thor Odinson was a wild heathen, making use of every golden thread of daylight with a smile and a shout. At night, however, the prince turned inward, his bravado slipping into tears when his eyes closed and the nightmares took him. Just a few times, Loki witnessed the terrors. In silence, he watched those powerful fists jerk into the air, Thor's handsome young face contorting as he moaned like a wounded beast and struggled and struggled and struggled. Closeness seemed to help, but there were occasions when Loki would wake to find his brother wild-eyed and confused on the floor, teeth gnashing in terror until a pitcher of water or an ice spell shocked him back into wakefulness.

The young sorcerer stroked the warrior's cheek with the tops of his fingers, just as he always did. He petted and soothed until the frightened lines eased from the handsome face, then laid still in hope of providing comfort that Thor would never request.

They were stretched out near the remains of last night's fire, the embers damp and dark with dew or a fine rain. Keeping vigil like Heimdall himself was their tutor, the silent and imposing Brynjarr the Red. While the boys sang and laughed after supper, he had taken up a space at the trunk of a mighty white tree, using the roots and smooth bark as a natural means to remain seated upright as he rested. Loki had no doubt that the warrior bore witness to Thor's fright, and was most likely wide awake long before the sorcerer had roused. He did not sleep in regular cycles, explaining once (and only once, as Brynnjarr the Red did not repeat himself to foolish boys) that the best of warriors could never be predicted. At any hour, they should be prepared for a fight; while rest was crucial, it should occur only when safety was guaranteed.

He smiled to himself, lips tightly closed--Mother called the gesture mischievous. He'd caught the man napping before, after he and Thor were sent on a strangely specific errand to fetch a plant of no particular importance. Loki had gotten separated from the Golden Prince, and as luck would have it, happened upon the solemn warrior laying stretched on his side with an arm beneath his head. Even the best of warriors could not always be prepared, Loki had added to his list of Bryn's rules.

Once the golden prince calmed, the warrior’s muscles relaxed as well and his piercing blue-green eyes drifted close for a little more rest. Loki didn’t deem it necessary to keep wake, either; he readily let himself sink into the sea of dreams once again.

The Sun was high up when they were gently roused to prepare for the day. The princes begged their parents to allow them a brief excursion to Asgard’s wilder areas, so they could exercise their survival skills. Thor was a firm supporter of the idea; he was ten years old, carrying a short sword since three years now, and believed himself to be a warrior. Father eventually gave permission, but the boys leaving alone was out of the question. Their silent, solemn bodyguard accompanied them, sharing further knowledge about the realm’s flora and fauna as well as the code of the warrior.

At sunfall, they were to return to the palace, but not empty-handed; Allfather insisted that they brought back prey or some other treasure of the forest. So the Odinsons set out after breakfast, to find something worthy. Brynjarr’s presence never vanished from behind, but the warrior wasn’t just an excellent fighter, best of the Einherjar; he made for a fine hunter, too, his feet barely making a sound on the forest floor.

The mismatched pair of princes had long since learned not to speak when on the hunt, instead communicating with a brief gesture or a touch to exposed skin. Loki often went first into the thicket. He was small, quick, easily unnoticed by even the ever-watching eyes of the wild; this morning, his soft boots were also silent on the earth, fingers nimbly picking open brush for the hunting party to creep through. Ahead, he caught a flash of bright plumage. His small hand rose to halt his brother.

First he glanced back, and was happy to find that Thor had seen it too. His sword was at the ready, free hand on Loki's hip where he carried his small throwing daggers.

The younger prince nodded once to his left, then crooked his forefinger (circle 'round); he tapped his daggers next (I'll flush it out).

His brother obeyed the signals, disappearing like sunlight into the grey of an approaching storm. Loki stole the opposite direction, keen eyes darting back and forth until he got a good look at it:

it was a medium-sized mammal of some sort, rat-like tail wrapped around a branch as it reached down to grasp at insects the busied themselves in the branch below. When he approached, it paused and sniffed the air--odd, it faced a direction different from his own. He froze anyway, until it continued its work.

The daggers were light and familiar in his right hand, two between his fingers, one against his thumb. He aimed. Threw.

The first dagger struck the tree itself, a resonating "thump" to startle; the second severed the branch above; the third broke the branch below.

Just as he'd anticipated, the creature plummeted with a shriek, which was Thor's signal to attack.

He heard the burst of that larger body from the leaves, felt his heart start to race with the thrill of it all, hunting, stalking--

"Aw, Loki!! You hit it already!"

The younger poked his head out, where his brother stood in the clearing above the still, colorful body. "I did no such thing!" he protested, though there was indeed blood all over the cooling form.

He padded over quickly and kneeled to examine the animal while Thor rambled.

“I was supposed to have this kill, you know! You said it yourself that you’ll flush it out and then you just decided to-”

“Brother, this is no dagger wound,” Loki cut in. “My daggers slice, this is a tear.”

Thor’s lips pursed and he poked at the fatal injury, not minding that his fingers got bloody. “But then what ha-”

The roar nearly knocked them over, it was so loud and piercing, scaring up birds from the trees.The princes looked frantically around, trying to find the beast it belonged to but could see nothing.

In several heartbeats however, a nightmare appeared in front of them, as if by magic, merging out of thin air. A long-bodied, lizard-like creature revealed itself with spikes on the back and claws on its feet, its tail swishing like a whip. Its piercing sulfur-yellow stare fixed on the boys, measuring them as a predator measures the prey. As it slowly pulled itself above the princes, one could clearly behold the impressive size - easily six feet tall, and twenty four feet long, towering above the children. It was hissing loudly, advancing slowly clearly prepared to attack.

A scream died in the younger prince's throat. Terrified, he stumbled back into his brother and nearly tripped over the corpse behind them. "Thor...!"


	2. Chapter 2

It was covered in matted, stinking fur, claws like crooked shard of ice as it lunged and swiped. He was overwhelmed with the stench of rotten marsh and stagnant mud, but still managed to take Thor's hand and pull them both down.

He launched a dagger up into its belly--which was deflected by a pelt that apparently acted as armor. With one sweep of its tail, the creature knocked the boys to the ground, then advanced on long legs to tower over them.

The next scream was just as blood-curling, but still sweet to Asgardian ears - the battle cry of Brynjarr the Red. He charged forth from the woods, his eyes filled with murder, mighty blade ready for a strike. The beast immediately turned toward the danger, with reflexes quick as light; it reared back on its hind legs and spat. Brynjarr evaded though that caused his momentum to break; but seeing that the dead leaves on the ground belched white smoke where the monster’s saliva hit them, it was the better option.

“Run!” he yelled at the Odinsons. “You need to stay safe!” And he charged again, with all his might, not leaving time for the monster to launch after the escaping prey.

Loki felt frozen, his limbs heavy as lead while his mind raced desperately, screaming him to flee, to obey; it took quite an effort to struggle up on trembling legs and grab for his brother.

"Brother!" Loki's eyes stung with frightened tears, but he held them back best he could. His small hand finally managed to wrap around Thor's, and he found strength when he was hauled up and physically pulled away. Hugged against his brother's chest, they stumbled back into the underbrush.

"We should find Father!" Loki hiccuped, shaking as he pushed close as he possibly could.

“He’s miles away!” Thor snapped, dragging his sibling with. “There’s only us... Bryn will kill it! He’s strong!” For once, he wasn’t that eager to engage into battle - this was a monster he have never seen before, neither heard of; maybe it slipped past the cracks between realms or perhaps even from farther away... It happened once in a while. He pulled Loki behind an enormous fallen tree’s trunk and peeked over it. His hands were trembling.

Loki sniffled, though he tried to keep it hidden behind his sleeve. Brynjarr was indeed powerful, and lunged at the creature with fearless abandon, despite its size and ferocity. He'd never seen the man fight without holding back, and all at once, he was awestruck by the raw power. Someday, he hoped to be a warrior like Brynjarr.

The creature hissed and lunged, seemingly uncaring that it took a blade directly to the throat. In its fury, it spewed a mouthful of saliva that covered Bryn's arm. Blood gushed in hideous gobs of black and red, but the monster didn't still. It continued fighting and shoved, writhed, its howls absolutely bone-chilling.

Loki was screaming in terror. The saliva hissed over Bryn's flesh, no doubt burning through to even the bone. "Thor, we have to do something!"

The golden prince breathed through gritted teeth. His body did not want to obey him, even though his warrior heart urged him to help, to do something for the man who has been his shadow, teaching him and shielding him from harm. He clenched his fists and growled, forcing himself to stand up. He looked around. They were on stone ground, a few rocks standing silent watch farther away; small rocks littered the ground. Thor eyed them, then his gaze flickered to his brother.

Loki met his eyes, feeling a thrill of excitement crush his voice. Together, perhaps they could save their mentor's life!

His small hands shook as he hoisted up a pointed, heavy rock. His feet wanted to root themselves to the ground, entire body ready for him to crouch down as small as possible and hide, but as he prepared to throw, he remembered Brynjarr's explanation of courage: when you are frightened down to your very soul, when you know that the only solution is to flee, you must stand strong and fight, even if you are certain to fall.

The creature swiped with one ferocious arm, knocking the mighty warrior to the ground. Loki took a deep breath, pulled his arm back, and threw the rock as hard as he could.

To his shame, it bounced off of a particularly well-protected area of its body--however, Loki's throw was supplemented by Thor's.

The blonde managed to grab a rock that Loki could only dream of lifting, and with a shout, he hurled it straight into the monster's outer leg.

It fell over hard, its frustrated roars shaking the forest. As Thor ran to grab another, Loki threw smaller stones at the wounded flesh of its neck, its face, and eyes. "O-over here!" he cried, voice far braver than he felt, "Come get us! We aren't afraid of you!!"

Deeming the injured warrior a threat no longer, the beast surged forth, toward the boys. Thor's blood froze in his veins; he didn't think past diverting the monster's attention from their mentor. He threw a few more stones for good measure and only ducked behind the trunk as an acid spit splashed against it right before him; the wood crackled and the bitter stench filled the air.

The monster's clawed foot shattered the bark, trying to eliminate the only barrier between the beast and its prey and it howled again, obviously angered by the injuries it received.

Loki had scuttled away before their enemy charged again. His heart was beating somewhere in his throat, reason and clarity muddled into streaks of fear. He dropped a few of his stones. "N-no! Get away from my brother!!"

To think that he might never wake up to Thor crawling into his bed again... To think he'd have no bigger hand to hold onto when Father was angry...

To think that he'd one day sit under the crown...

He ran forward, heavy rock straining his muscles, and lifted his arms up high, high in the air, as high as he could. After a brief pause, the young prince squeezed his eyes shut and brought it down hard.

A cry of rage rang out over the splitting of flesh, where rock pierced fur, skin, and bone.

In the next moment, he was hurled across the air, his left side flaring in burning agony for a brief moment, until his back hit a tree. He fell, hitting the ground hard and his consciousness was snuffed out like a candle. Loki couldn't see his brother's eyes widening. He couldn't hear the battle cry of the young warrior with a pierced heart. He couldn't see the short blade as it struck and found home, driven by the fury of the future Thunder God.

Thor was consumed by rage, the world veiled in red before his eyes. He wrenched his blade out of the howling monster and struck again.

The beast shrieked like Surtur's spawn, but through it, Thor heard Brynjarr's cry, too. As if in a dream, he saw the warrior run toward them, leap and land on the monster's back. It reared, trying to shake him off. Brynjarr stood his ground.

He lifted his sword and brought it down. The blade pierced the thick hide, sinking in halfway. The best roared and spun around. Its wildly swishing tail hit Thor full force; the prince rolled away. Brynjarr aimed and his sword found its way into the strong neck, just below the skull.

There was an oppressive silence as massive jaws snapped in the air. The blade must've pierced the windpipe, as Thor could hear no more of its frenzied, guttural sounds. Instead, the creature thrashed even more violently than before, but without a target for its fury.

Brynjarr was at his side after a moment, his shoulders heaving with labored breath as he held his wounded arm close to his body.

Wild-eyed and mouth frothing, the beast turned to them. It took one step forward, fangs gnashing, and with a final shudder, it pitched forward into a lifeless heap.

Brynjarr shook himself and he spun on his heels, accessing the situation. Thor was just picking himself up from the ground but Loki still lay under the tree that broke his fall.

Blue-green eyes widened in terror, and in a heartbeat, the warrior was kneeling next to the younger prince, hand frantically but gently checking for injury, Thor limped closer as fast as he could and he was taken aback by what he saw - tears rolling down the always-solemn face.

"Is my brother well?" the golden prince inquired meekly and winced when Brynjar looked at him, as if hearing his own death sentence.

There came a soft noise, the grumpy sort of sound Loki made when his new trousers got dirty or Thor slammed his book shut when he was deep into the passages, and the delicate brow suddenly furrowed. Green eyes slid open, dazed and unfocused confusion plain in their gaze. "..where is Thor?"

"I'm here!" Thor was gripping the pale little hand in his in the next second, kissing the knuckles. "Brother, my brother!"

"Are you in pain, my prince?" Brynjarr asked, his voice trembling. "Can you move your legs? Your arms?"

"Brother, I thought--" Despite it all, he was laughing. He kissed the Golden Prince's cheeks and eyelids, managing to swallow back dizziness long enough to sit up. "I thought it had taken you!"

The boys celebrated with true devotion, smiles and happy tears rolling down young faces, until at last their exhaustion set in, and they were holding on to one another for support in addition to comfort.

There was indeed a nagging pain in his side, but Loki was determined to stay strong. "I am well, sir. I apologize for my weakness. I wish I could've fought harder for you." Heat gathered in his cheeks. "Your arm, mentor?"

There was no reply. The mighty warrior kneeled in the dirt with hunched shoulders, intact hand covering his face and his whole body shook with soundless sobs. Thor's lips started to tremble too. "Brynjarr...? Brynnjarr, are you well?" His hands flew to the man's shoulder.

In the next moment, the boys were swept up in strong arms and Brynjarr the Red, the Silent, the Steel-hearted embraced them like a father and wept like a child.

Spots of white danced behind Loki's eyes, the embrace taking his breath away when an arm connected with his side. It was handled easily enough, however. Shame and humiliation clouded his eyes, and he found himself crying, too. "I'm sorry, Brynjarr.. I'm so sorry!"

To the lads, disappointment could be the only reason that their proud teacher would crumble so. Thor didn't speak much, but held fast to the man's waist and bit back his own tears. "Please forgive us, mentor," the Trickster whimpered, devastated by his own perceived failure, "You are a fine teacher, sir, please don't blame yourself..!"

"I nearly let you die! I failed as a bodyguard, as a warrior, a father... I nearly lost you, the heirs of Asgard! I do not deserve to live! Odinsons, I am sorry. I have failed you." He kissed Loki's forehead and Thor's temple. "I'm just thankful that you're alive. At least I'd be able to stand before Allfather."

The princes looked like beached fish, wide eyed and slack-jawed. Their faces were dirty with blood, fur, tears, and forest detritus, which gave at least the younger pause before he joined his brother in burying eyes and runny noses against Brynjarr's broad chest. "We are all right, thanks to your tutelage," soothed Thor.

He sounded ever the future King of Asgasrd, even with a voice choked in tears. "We were all surprised by this creature and survived only because of you, mentor."

Loki nodded his agreement, sniffling as he curled his small fingers in long red hair. "Y-you're not bad," he added with a muffled nod.

Brynjarr shook himself, swallowing back further tears. "I have lost two little ones already... I would loose all right to live if I let it happen again! Are you sure you're well? Injuries are not to be taken lightly. Tell me if you hit your heads or if your insides hurt." It was odd to hear him talk so much. Brynjarr always expressed himself with few words, not wasting breath on elaborating.

His heart ached for Brynjarr, but his side ached too and he now had guilt to add to his feelings. Loki leaned back, scrubbed his eyes with his dirty sleeve. "It's just a bruise, I am certain," he replied meekly as he slipped his fingers beneath his tunic and lifted to show off his left side, where he'd connected with the tree.

"What of you, brother?"

Thor shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ve him my leg but it’s alright, I can stand.”

Brynjarr’s calloused fingers gently probed Loki’s injury. “Does it hurt to breathe? Does it hinder moving much?” His hands were warm and so careful. The Odinsons have seen him fight and spar, breaking things when the need arose, and they saw him sitting still, watching intently but never like this. The warrior-mentor seldom ever laughed and barely talked; when Thor mentioned to others that he saw Brynjarr smile, they didn’t want to believe him first.

"It does not hurt to breathe, but when you touch it--" he bit back a whimper, brow furrowing as he swallowed heavily. His small hand snapped down, gripping Brynjarr's forefinger in a tight hold. "Please don't press down on it anymore. Sir."

Brynjarr stopped immediately, caressing Loki's face. "You probably bruised a rib, my prince. It'll be sore a for a while but the healers will take good care of it." He gathered the boy into his arms and stood, not even flinching as fresh drops of blood fell from his injured arm. "Thor, gather the fallen weapons, please. We'll be heading home."

If anyone was to disobey orders, it was Thor. However, he did begin to pick up the weaponry, keeping an eye on the tree where Loki's daggers were still embedded. Said child began to squirm, even as comfortable and safe as he felt. "No! Put me down, I must see your arm!" When Brynjarr didn't immediately comply, Loki's silvery voice rose into a shout. "I order you to put me on my feet immediately!"

There was a flash in the turquoise eyes, but not that of anger; it might have been pride. The warrior cautiously lowered the prince on his feet, then stood with his head bowed, like one honors a king's presence. "It is nothing I haven't dealt with before, Odinson. You needn't worry."

"I shall be the judge of that!" He was tiny before his strong mentor Brynharr, always so intimidated by their difference in height, but this day, he looked up without an ounce of hesitation. "Kneel, Brynjarr. Hold out your arm to me--" His forefinger jutted forward, a warning. "--do not question me."

With a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips, the best of the Einherjar kneeled and lifted his arm without a sound of protest. The injury probably looked worse than it was; the thick clothing protected the flesh somewhat. The sleeve was in tatters now, burned away by the monster's acid spit, and the skin was marred, but aside a patch, which cracked open and leaked crimson, it looked like a mild burn, a surface injury. Bone and muscle was most probably still intact. Even if it would leave a scar, the warrior was going to use his arm fine.

To a child of eight years however, this wound easily marked the worst thing he'd ever seen. Far be it from him to understand the difference between surface wounds and serious injuries--all his wide green eyes beheld was bubbled skin, a painful-looking burn, and blood. So much blood. He swallowed back nausea as he bravely peeled back tatters of cloth.

Loki knew that he had to do something. "You are a brave warrior and a good man," said he, tears again gathering in his tired gaze, "What will Asgard do if you lose this arm?!"

He sniffed hard. His stomach hurt, and not because of his ribs. It was guilt, gnawing hard at his insides and demanding that he fix this, fix it now, fix it now!!! "Our beloved Brynjarr, you took this for us!" He thought he closed his eyes, as his vision darkened considerably, but to the other men, they were clouded over with a reddish film that struck even the sclera. He must fix this, he must save Brynjarr, he must..!

He grabbed the worst of the arm in between his palms, which were icy cold. There was no beauty to the mending that took place; it was blood and frost, turning the ragged skin to frostbitten black before allowing it to well up into a disgusting sludge.

Meanwhile, Loki's slim body snapped rigid, painfully drawing itself back, back, stretching every inch of bone, joint, muscle, until everything hurt, everything...

Thor was dumbfounded when it all ended with a gasp and a thump, as his beloved brother landed on his back in an unceremonious heap.

The pain that struck momentarily rendered Brynjarr immobile; otherwise he would have caught the prince. Still, he was able to save the boy from hitting his head on the hard ground and once again he pulled the small body close. The warrior knew Loki was a witch-child, but he never expected to witness him using his power - he was too young for that.

And yet, as he glanced at his arm, he was stunned to see that the worst of the burn was reduced to a pink patch. "You shouldn't have done that," he murmured to the trembling child in his embrace. The fragile frame felt so cold. He obviously exhausted himself.

The eyes were wide and clear, but unfocused. They darted like frightened birds in a burning cage, fleeing from one side to the other without any hope of an escape. Finally, they stopped. He was staring at his brother, who looked horrified--perhaps at the vivid blue veins that had suddenly been visible beneath fair skin.

They started to wane, though, and with a triumphant grin, Prince Loki's piercing gaze rolled back.

He went limp in Brynjarr's arms.

"Mother is going to be so proud," Thor muttered over their mentor's shoulder.

"Your father a little less," Brynjarr muttered, allowing a personal opinion slip through the first time Thor knew him. "Let us return home, so we can be tended to."


	3. Chapter 3

Odin Allfather wasn't surprised by his sons visiting at all; he suspected they will come. He took notice of Thor's limp and his determined frown and Loki's paleness and burning eyes and dismissed his warlord with a wave of his hand. "What is the meaning of this sudden intrusion, my sons?"

Thor pressed his lips together and walked to the steps where he bowed according to the etiquette. "Allfather, we wish to speak to you on behalf of Brynjarr the Red."

Loki bowed, too, a little stiffly. His fingers itched to comfortably wrap themselves in Thor's hand, where they could borrow some of his strength in relative safety. Instead, like a good prince and a good son, he gripped the hem of his tunic.

"Brynjarr can speak for himself," replied Allfather, though there was a sparkling in his eye that neither the lads could name, "My sons should be resting."

"Forgive us, Allfather, but we cannot rest until we know for certain that our protector is not unjustly treated." His voice was so soft, but Loki kept his chin up and back straight in spite. "Were it not for his strength and courage, yesterday would have marked the final moments of Prince Thor and Loki of Asgard."

The warlord still present was having a hard time schooling his expression, but he managed. Odin pulled himself up straight. "And if it weren't for his carelessness and incompetence, the Odinsons would have escaped unharmed!" he declared sternly.

Thor's eyes widened and he dropped on his knees. "Father I beg of you! Brynjarr is the pride of the Einherjar, he is never careless! The beast that attacked us was the vilest of all, it could not be seen or heard! He cannot be held responsible!" He clenched a tiny fist. "If you must punish someone, it should be me!"

From this closeness, he could tell that they were both shaking. "He fought valiantly for us!" Loki protested and ambled forward a few steps. "If anyone is to blame.. it.. It is I! I located the beast's quarry and attacked without properly securing the area. I was overconfident. Because of my mistake, I almost cost you your eldest son and the greatest warrior Asgard has ever known!"

Small nose crinkling, Loki too felt a wave of overwhelming fear. Part of him wished to face down another beast instead of their father. He puffed out his chest, took Thor's arm, and let out pained breaths as he hauled him up to his feet again. "No, brother! We must be men!" he hissed between clenched teeth. "We cannot bow down now, while Brynjarr depends on us!"

"So, you would take punishment instead of him, Loki of Asgard?" Odin inquired. "Endangering the first prince is treason that is punished by death!"

Thor paled visibly. "Father! Loki only acted on my behalf! I was all too eager to return with prey and he only tried to fulfill my wish! He is not to blame!"

"SIlence!" Allfather boomed. "Look at yourselves, crying for mercy, desperate to shoulder each other's burden! While a king knows mercy, he would not use every excuse to save sinners, no matter how dear they are for his heart! I should punish all of you!"

Both the princes' faces were red with unshed tears and ill-hidden grief, but it was the smaller of the two who refused to back down. "We are not crying, Father, nor are we begging for mercy!"

Thor's lower lip quivered. He wouldn't cry, either. "We plead for justice! I.. I will not allow Brynjarr the Red to come under any harm!" His chin lifted.

"The fault is not his own. Punish us if you must, but a Prince of Asgard will never cower away in fear while one of his subjects suffers needlessly."

Finally, Loki broke, but he hid his eyes behind a sleeve. He couldn't help himself, scrabbling for Thor's hand no matter who might be watching. "Y-yes. Do your worst, Odin Allfather!"

The warlord was peering at the king curiously. Odin sighed and relaxed on his throne. "You still have a lot to learn, princes. Your hearts are too soft as of yet and you cannot grasp the duties of a king. But you are indeed too young for that, and your courage and dedication deserves praise. Just this once," he held up his hand, "I shall forgive Brynjarr the Red. No punishment shall befall neither on him, nor you."

Thor's grin nearly split his face, but he still bowed politely. "You are fair and just, Allfather. Thank you for your wise decision." He squeezed Loki's hand.

He murmured his own thanks, but the words were lost in the spacious throne room. Loki stepped behind his brother to hide from both the grown men’s gazes.

"May we be dismissed, Father?" Thor's wavering voice was gone, replaced by a tone of triumph.

Allfather finally smiled. "You may leave now."

They exchanged looks, blue with green, and finally, the boys smiled too. With Loki in tow, Thor ran toward the door in celebration. "--wait!"

Thor skidded on his heels, turned, and launched himself toward the throne. Two pairs of arms wrapped around their father's neck, followed up by a kiss to each cheek. "Thank you, father. We'll see you at supper!"

Then on toes, both shaky in pride, Thor and Loki Odinson fled to share their news with Brynjarr the Red.

Odin glanced at his warlord. "Wipe that grin off your face." But he couldn't help smiling himself.

\------------------------------------

Brynjarr the Red lay on his bed and was grudgingly picking a grape. He was condemned to rest in the House of Healing until his skin mended properly. He was faring rather well though; the burns were fading fast, and among the marks, there was a round little patch covered by fresh new skin; the gift of Prince Loki.

There came a startled shout, one of the healers squealing as rapid footfalls sounded on the rich, beautiful floors. The Mighty Young Thor burst through the doors of Brynjarr’s room, blue eyes wide, mouth in a grin, blonde hair loose around his face. “Brother and I have the most wonderful news!” He launched himself across the bed, and in a whirl of arms and golden hair, he attached himself to the strong, thick neck.

With a small, slow gait, Loki entered as well. His head was tilted away as he called out a polite apology. “He is wounded, brother,” he scolded, as he climbed up onto the bed, too. There wasn’t enough room against his chest, so Loki instead pressed snugly to Brynjarr’s side. “You must be gentle.”

The warrior curled his arms around the princes. “A bright day to you, Odinsons. What brings you here?” He stroked Loki’s raven tresses fondly; a small thank you for the healing effort.

“We talked to Allfather,” Thor rambled. “He won’t punish you! You’re safe from his wrath.” He squeezed the man happily.

Loki's small head pushed into his palm--the lad always seemed to be starving for any scrap of affection. "We had no other way to thank you for saving our lives, so we hope this will be thanks enough."

He grinned at his brother across Brynjarr's broad chest, as if sharing some unspoken secret. "How are your wounds, mentor?"

"They are healing well, thank you." Brynjarr wisely refrained from mentioning that his life was never in danger; Allfather understood that the monster could not be spotted and therefore didn't intend to punish him.

"Also thank you for speaking on my behalf. Now I shall rest assured."

Thor's pride was written openly on his face; Loki even shared one of his sweeter smiles, not an ounce of malice in the wide green eyes. "You were -amazing-!" the eldest piped up, and rocked to sit on his heels so he could gesture wildly with his hands, "What a warrior you are, and to think that you are training us now! Your blade was buried to the hilt in that creature's throat--”

"--brother, really--"

"--it hadn't a chance!" Thor turned his happy grin to Brynjarr. "Even with a wound as grievous as yours!"

"I do not deserve so much praise," Brynjarr said modestly, with a small smile. "Battling monsters and foes is what I do best and my arm wasn't bothering me that much whilst in battle rage. You did a far better job - despite being so young, you managed to strike the beast. You'll be fine warriors when you grow up." He stroked Loki's hair again. "And a mighty sorcerer."

"Nonsense! You roared like a beast yourself!" The eldest prince pounded a fist against his own chest. "One day, Brynjarr, you must accompany me to Jotunheim!" Loki merely shook his head, content to lay close to their mentor's side. "You and brother and I could lay waste to the monsters, every last one!"

"Do not be so eager to go to the Frost Realm, my prince. Our truce is fragile, careless trespassing would endanger it," Brynjarr reminded him. "Concentrate on your training, and triumph will come to you in due time. Patience is a hunter's virtue."

"I speak not of truces, mentor. The only way we shall ever be safe is by destroying the Frost Giants." He rolled sky blue eyes and sank back down, arm sliding loosely around Brynjarr's shoulders. "They are fiends, all liars and destroyers that are better off dead. When I am King, I shall see to it that they are no threat to us."

"When you are King, you will see that the matters of the Nine Realms are far more complicated than that. I have been there with Allfather when the forces of Asgard swept the Frost Giants off Midgard. I was a great deal younger though..."

Thor laid on his stomach and propped his chin up atop their teacher's chest. "What was it like?

Brynjarr placed the bowl of grapes on his stomach, where both boys could reach it and began to talk.


End file.
